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Nurfe. Will you fpeak well of him that kill'd your coufin?
Jul. Shall I fpeak ill of him that is my husband?
Ah poor my Lord, what tongue fhall smooth thy name,
When I thy three-hours-wife have mangled it!

But wherefore, villain, didft thou kill my cousin?
That villain coufin would have kill'd my husband.
Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring;
Your tributary drops belong to woe,
Which you mistaking offer up to joy.

My husband lives that Tybalt would have flain,
And Tybalt's dead that would have kill'd my husband;
All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then?

Some word there was worfer than Tybalt's death,
That murther'd me; I would forget it fain,
But, oh! it preffes to my memory,

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Like damned guilty deeds to finners minds
Tybalt is dead, and Romeo banished!
That banished, that one word banished,
Hath flain ten thousand Tybalts: Tybalt's death
Was woe enough, if it had ended there :
Or if fow'r woe delights in fellowship,
And needly will be rank'd with other griefs,
Why follow'd not, when fhe faid Tybalt's dead,
Thy Father or thy Mother, nay, or both?
But with a rear-ward following Tybalt's death,
Romeo is banished-to fpeak that word,
Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet,
All flain, all dead:Romeo is banished!
There is no end, no limit, measure, bound,
In that word's death; no words can that woe found.
Where is my father, and my mother, nurse?

Nurse. Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's coarse.
Will you go to them? I will bring you thither.

Jul. Wash they his wounds with tears? mine fhall be spent,

When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment.

Nurse. Hie to your chamber, I'll find Romeo To comfort you. I wot well where he is.

Hark

Hark ye, your Romeo will be here at night;
I'll to him, he is hid at Lawrence' cell.

Jul. O find him, give this ring to my true knight, And bid him come, to take his laft farewel. [Exeunt.

SCENE

NE V.

The Monaftery.

Enter Friar Lawrence and Romeo.

Fri. ROA

OMEO, come forth; come forth, thou fearful
Affliction is enamour'd of thy parts,

And thou art wedded to calamity.

[man;

Rom. Father, what news? what is the Prince's doom?

What forrow craves acquaintance at my hand,

That I yet know not?

Fri. Too familiar

Is my dear fon with fuch fow'r company.

bring thee tidings of the Prince's doom.

Rom. What lefs than dooms-day is the Prince's doom? Fri. A gentler judgment vanish'd from his lips,

Not body's death, but body's banishment.

Rom. Ha, banishment! be merciful, fay death;
For exile hath more terror in his look,
Than death it self. Do not fay banishment.

Fri. 'Hence from Verona art thou banished:
Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.

Rom. There is no world without Verona's walls,
But purgatory, 'torturing hell it felf.
Hence banished, is banifh'd from the world;
And world-exil'd, is death. Then banishment
Is death mif-term'd: calling death banishment
Thou cut'ft my head off with a golden ax,
And fmil'ft upon the ftroak that murthers me.
Fri. O deadly fin! O rude unthankfulness!
Thy fault our law calls death, but the kind Prince

Taking

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4 Here

5 torture, hell it self.

6 That banished

Taking thy part hath rufh'd afide the law,
And turn'd that black word death to banishment.
This is meer mercy, and thou feeft it not.

Rom. 'Tis torture, and not mercy: heav'n is here
Where Juliet lives; and every cat and dog
And little moufe, every unworthy thing
Lives here in heaven, and may look on her,
But Romeo may not. More validity,
More honourable state, more courtship lives
In carrion flies, than Romeo: they may feize
On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand,
And fleal immortal bleffings from her lips;
But Romeo may not, he is banished.

7/O father, hadft thou no ftrong poifon mixt,
No fharp-ground knife, no prefent means of death,
But banishment to torture me withal?

O Friar, the damned ufe that word in hell;
Howlings attend it: how haft thou the heart,
Being a Divine, a ghostly Confeffor,

A fin-abfolver, and my friend profeft,
To mangle me with that word banishment?
Fri. Fond mad-man, hear me speak.

Rom. O thou wilt fpeak again of banishment.
Fri. I'll give thee armour to bear off that, word,
Adverfity's fweet milk, philofophy,

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To comfort thee, tho' thou art banished.
Ron. Yet, banished? hang up philosophy :
Unless philofophy can make a Juliet,
Difplant a town, reverse a Prince's doom,
It helps not, it prevails not, talk no more-
Fri. O then I fee that mad-men have no ears.
Rom. How fhould they, when that wife men have no
Fri. Let me difpute with thee of thy estate.
Rom. Thou canst not speak of what thou doft not feel:
Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love,

7 Had'st thou no poifon mixt, nor fharp ground knife, No fudden mean of death, tho' ne'er fo mean

But banished to kill me? banished.

[eyes?

An

An hour but married, Tybalt murthered,
Doting like me, and like me banished;

Then might'ft thou speak, then might'ft thou tear thy hair, And fall upon the ground as I do now,

Taking the measure of an unmade grave.

[Throwing himself on the ground. Fri. Arife, one knocks; good Romeo, hide thy felf.

[Knock within. Thou wilt be taken-stay a while-stand up; [Knock. Run to my study-By and by-God's will! What wilfulnefs is this-I come, I come.

[Knock.

Who knocks fo hard? whence come you? what's your will? Nurfe. [Within.] Let me come in, and you fhall know my errand:

I come from Lady Juliet.

Fri. Welcome then.

Enter Nurfe.

Nurse. O holy Friar, oh tell me, holy Friar, Where is my Lady's Lord? where's Romeo?

[drunk.

Fri. There, on the ground, with his own tears made
Nurfe. O he is even in my miftrefs' cafe,

Juft in her cafe, O woful fympathy!
Piteous predicament! even fo lyes fhe,

Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering.
Stand up, ftand up; ftand an you be a man:
For Juliet's fake, for her fake rise and stand:
Why fhould you fall into fo deep 8 'an-`
Rom. 'Oh Nurfe!

Nurfe. Ah Sir, ah Sir! Death is the end of all.
Rom. Speak'ft thou of Juliet? how is it with her?
Doth not the think me an old murtherer,

Now I have ftain'd the child-hood of our joy
With blood remov'd but little from her own?

Where is the? and how does fhe? and what fays
My conceal'd Lady to our cancell'd love?

Nurfe. O fhe fays nothing, Sir, but weeps and weeps,

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And

And now falls on her bed, and then starts up,
And Tybalt cries, and then on Romeo calls,
And then down falls again.

Rom. As if that name

Shot from the deadly level of a gun

Did murther her, as that name's curfed hand
Murther'd her kinfman. Tell me, Friar, tell me,
In what vile part of this anatomy

Doth my name lodge? tell me, that I may fack
The hateful manfion.

Fri. Hold thy desperate hand:

Art thou a man? thy form cries out, thou art:
Thy tears are womanish, thy wild acts do note
Th' unreasonable fury of a beast.

Thou haft amaz'd me. By my holy order,
I thought thy difpofition better temper❜d.
Haft thou flain Tybalt? wilt thou flay thy felf?
And flay thy. Lady too, that lives in thee?
What, roufe thee, man, thy Juliet is alive,
For whose dear fake thou waft but lately dead:
There art thou happy. Tybalt would kill thee,
But thou flew'ft Tybalt; there thou'rt happy too.
The law that threatned death became thy friend,
And turn'd it to exile; there art thou happy.
A pack of bleffings light upon thy back,
Happiness courts thee in her beft array,
But, like a misbehav'd and fullen wench,
Thou pout'ft upon thy fortune and thy love.
Take heed, take heed, for fuch die miferable.
Go get thee to thy love, as was decreed,
Afcend her chamber, hence, and comfort her:
But look thou ftay not 'till the watch be fet,
For then thou canst not pass to Mantua,
Where thou shalt live, 'till we can find a time
To blaze our marriage, reconcile your friends,
Beg pardon of the Prince, and call thee back
With twenty hundred thousand times more joy,
Than thou went'ft forth in lamentation.

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